


Calling Me Back Once Again

by fuzzballsheltiepants



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Being Lost, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, M/M, POV Outsider, Skiing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 16:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16936491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzballsheltiepants/pseuds/fuzzballsheltiepants
Summary: On Christmas Eve morning, Neil decided to go for a little ski near their ski lodge.  An unexpected blizzard hits, leaving it up to the local search and rescue team to find him.  Meanwhile, all Andrew can do is wait.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frummpy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frummpy/gifts).



> This is my gift for Gretchen, @grummpi on Tumblr, for the AFTG Winter Holiday Exchange! The prompt was: angst, outsider pov, anything with snow, ski lodge for winter vacation, interests outside of exy. NSFW is fine. 
> 
> It was supposed to be at least a thousand words; I may have gotten a bit carried away. The title is inspired by the old Screaming Trees song, Nearly Lost You. Thank you to Nicole @tntwme for the edit as usual!

Neil couldn’t believe he was going to die out here.

It just figured, he thought as he forced his right ski forward, then his left.  Only he could survive years on the run, and Lola and his father and the fucking mafia, only to be taken out by an incorrect weather report.

Right ski.  Left ski. Push with the poles that he could barely even feel in his hands.  Right. Left. Push.

The pines on either side of the narrow trail roared as the wind tore through them, picking up the falling snow and pelting it into the narrow strip of exposed skin on Neil’s face.  When he felt himself start to lose ground, he turned sideways to the gust and waited for it to quiet down.

Left ski.  Right ski. None of the woods around him looked familiar; it all looked the same.  The driving snow had wiped away all distinction between the trees. Neil looked back; the snow was falling so fast his tracks were already nearly obliterated.  He wondered if he had missed a turn somewhere.

His hands were shaking so hard that he almost dropped his phone when he pulled it out to check it.  Less than five percent battery, and still no service. He cursed under his breath as he tucked it back into his pocket.  Andrew’s voice still sounded in his head, broken up by the bad service that had been a factor even before the storm had worsened.  “Don’t...stay...you are…” Neil sighed and slung his small pack around to pull out the last of his sports drink. Ice was forming in the bottle, but at least there was enough liquid to drink.

When he shoved the empty bottle back in the pack and turned to start again, he realized he didn’t know which direction he had been traveling.  The few minutes’ break worth of wind and snow had completely obscured any sign of travel. He turned his face up to the sky, trying to find any sign of where the sun would be, but all he could see was gray.  Ice from his breath was crusting on his scarf and he tried to brush it away with one covered hand but ended up shoving the scarf down instead. His numb fingers couldn’t quite work to get it fixed and after a few more minutes he gave up and just picked a direction.  It took him a strangely long time to get his legs to move, and every inch of him ached, but somewhere at the end of the trail, wherever that was in this white wilderness, Andrew was waiting for him.

Keep moving.  That had always been his instinct, even if years of Andrew had soothed the burning urgency.  Keep moving. He could do that. For Andrew, he could do that.

Left.  Right.

*****

Andrew wasn’t sure who he wanted to murder more.  Kevin, for pressuring Neil into joining him for cross-country skiing lessons a few winters ago and creating an unexpected monster, or Neil for deciding to go out for a morning ski on Christmas Eve when their entire family was descending on them that night.

This was supposed to be a goddamn vacation.  And now his junkie was out there somewhere in the nor’easter, and the app that was supposed to locate his phone wasn’t fucking working.  He was stuck here wrapped in every layer he had brought, waiting, just...waiting. He had answered the questions from the head of the search and rescue team, but he hadn’t been able to handle sitting in the stupid camper thing.  He needed to see.

The last snowmobile disappeared up the trail.  It was all organized; one person was going to the last recorded location that Andrew had marked when Neil had called and admitted his predicament; four others were splitting up along the trails that led to and from that spot.  He refused to be impressed by the efficiency, nor grateful for their willingness to go out in the storm that was expected to dump close to a foot on the mountains. Not until Neil was returned to him, unharmed.

He had noticed the way the team was talking in low voices off to the side; he had googled the odds.  He just hoped his idiot had listened to him when he’d told him not to move, to find shelter and stay where he was.  But Neil was Neil, and following instructions had never been one of his strengths.

At some point, someone brought him some watery hot chocolate that he drank without tasting.  The sky was steadily turning a darker gray, and once night fell they would have to stop for the safety of the searchers.

Once night fell, he’d be out there himself if Neil was still missing.

When he started to shiver he headed to the camper.  His glasses fogged as soon as he stepped into the warm, and he unzipped his coat and pulled the hem of his shirt out from under the many layers to wipe them off.  Nodding to the two people manning the communications, he shrugged out of his coat and shucked off his hat and gloves before dropping into one of the folding chairs that sat around the small table.  

Tugging his phone out of his jacket pocket he opened up the GPS tracking app he’d installed half as a joke when they’d upgraded.  Still no signal from Neil. What the fuck was the actual use of this fucking app if it didn’t work when it was fucking needed? He slammed the phone down on the table, not quite hard enough to break it.

“Hey,” one of the comm people said, and Andrew whipped his head around, ready to snap at the pending reprimand.  A charger cord flew at him and he caught it reflexively. “Keep that thing charged. If he gets to a place with service, you want to be able to respond.”

Andrew stared at the cord for an endless moment, then dragged his eyes up to the guy’s.  The “thanks” wouldn’t form on his tongue, but at his stiff nod the man flashed him a quick smile.  He plugged in the phone and picked up the two-year-old issue of Time that sat on the Formica table.  None of the words or pictures registered, but the blur of flipping through the pages at least felt like he was doing something.

_It’s not as bad as Baltimore_ , he told himself.  Nobody wanted to kill Neil this time.  Nature didn’t have a vendetta, Neil just happened to be in the way.   _It’s not as bad_.  He just needed to wait this out, and he had always been good at waiting.  Even if the warm air of this safe place might choke him, knowing his junkie was out there maybe breathing his last.  Alone. Neil had always feared dying alone. Even if he’d never said it, Andrew still knew.

Suddenly the uncertainty and premature loss stabbed into him like a knife.  He shot to his feet, hands grabbing for the layers and yanking his phone off the cord.  If the comm people watched him flee, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

*****

Josh watched as Andrew Minyard— _Andrew freaking Minyard_ —shoved his way through the door.  It was incredible, how different he was from all the rumors.  The press would have you think the man was some sort of soulless machine, he thought, shaking his head as he turned back to his computer.  Who ever would believe this version of him? Even Josh could barely believe it.

He’d been working with search-and-rescue almost as long as these men had been alive.  He’d seen a hundred different manifestations of love, and fear, and grief. But he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the type of visceral terror that hid deep in Minyard’s eyes.  It rattled him.

Tracy was looking at him, face tight with concern.  “If we don’t find him,” Josh started.

“Hush,” Tracy said, shaking her head at him.

“If we don’t find this guy, it’s going to kill him.”  He gestured over his shoulder at the figure of Minyard just visible through the window.

“Don’t even put that out there.  You know better. You know how this works.”

He did.  God help him, he did.  Closing his eyes for a moment, he breathed in, breathed out, breathed in.  Visualized the snowmobiles coming down the side of the mountain, Josten secure in the toboggan.  Opening his eyes, he let out a breath with what could only be called a prayer.

*****

The second time Neil dropped his poles some part of him knew it was over.

There had been a a nice shot of relief when he found the branch of the trail that led down the mountain.  He had thought he would make it; after all, he only had to glide and turn, and Andrew was waiting for him down there.  But he couldn’t get his hands to stay closed around the poles. It was like they had developed minds of their own. The first time he’d dropped them, he had nearly toppled over when he picked them up. 

This time, there was no nearly about it.  One minute he was bending down, the next he was sprawled out in the snow.  Patting blindly through the frozen whiteness, he located one pole, but the other was nowhere to be found.  He pushed up to his knees, then his feet; one of his skis had fallen off and when he went to step into the bindings again he suddenly found himself on his back.  He rolled onto his side; he always slept better that way. 

He would just rest for a little bit, then go.  He had to get up soon for practice anyway. But it was still too bright in the room; he must not have turned out the lights.  

He couldn’t sleep without saying good-night to Andrew.  It was one of their traditions. For the years they were apart, every night, they said it or texted it.  Sometimes in English, sometimes German, sometimes Russian. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. Two percent juice.  He should plug it in before he went to sleep, but he didn’t want to get up.

Andrew’s name was the first one in his messages, of course.  He wasn’t sure why he was wearing mittens, but he pulled them off and typed out slowly, painstakingly,  _ Gute Nacht _ , then hit send.  His hands were cold; it was often a bit cold, squatting without being able to turn on the heat.  That was okay; he could sleep with his arms pulled inside his shirt, holding onto himself for warmth; he’d done that often enough.  He wanted to wait up for Andrew’s response, but exhaustion pulled at him and he pillowed his head on the cold sheet and let himself drift.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew's phone finally does its job; Neil gets confused, then gets found.

Andrew lit a cigarette, took three drags, then stubbed it out.  He had promised Neil he would quit by the end of the year, and this was the last pack he would let himself buy.  But even that long-familiar ritual didn’t feel right. Not without someone to filch it from him, only to not even smoke the damn thing.

He checked his phone again.  The sound was on, volume all the way up.  No new texts, no calls. The GPS tracker still showed no signal from Neil’s phone.  Stupid, useless piece of shit. He tucked it back in his pocket as he started on his hundredth lap of the small parking lot.  All the trucks with their ramps for the snowmobiles were as familiar to him by then as the Maserati. Red one, gray one, brown one, another gray one.  The world around him was eerily quiet, just the subtle hiss of the snow and the muffled chime of his phone, that was no doubt a figment of his desperate imagination.

But when he pulled it out, there was an alert.  A text. _Gute nachte_.  Fuck, if a text could come through… He scrambled to unlock the phone.  Fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck fuck—

There.  It was there, the coordinates as stark as a headline.  He almost slipped in the lot as he bolted for the camper.

“I have him,” he gasped, not even sure if the words came out as more than an incoherent jumble.  The woman manning the comms understood. She was at his side in a flash and read the coordinates off to the guy in a voice as steady as a metronome.  Andrew wanted to shake her for her calm.

The radio buzzed with one of the searchers’ scratchy reply.  “On my way.”

Another answered a moment later.  “I’ll head there too, in case Katie needs help.”

Andrew sat, or maybe fell, into the chair he had claimed earlier.  He pulled up the text, rubbing his thumb gently over Neil’s name and making the screen slide.   _Gute nachte_.  His brain was stupidly slow to connect.  Good night.

 _No_.  He hadn’t thought he’d said it aloud, but two heads swiveled to face him.  “Good night,” he choked out, too far past his limit to swallow down the words.  He turned his phone to show them. There was a pause while they exchanged glances that Andrew had no patience to try to interpret.

The woman, Tracy, cleared her throat.  “They often get a bit confused,” she said, slowly, cautiously.  “With hypothermia.”

The edges of his phone dug into his hand; he could feel his nails embedding in the other palm.  An eternity passed while he waited for something, anything from the radio. No; not an eternity; just seven years.  Seven years of a pipe dream turned real, a man of smoke made solid. Every memory unspooled behind his eyes in those four and a half minutes, leaving him almost breathless when the radio crackled and a somber voice spoke.

“I found him.”

*****

There was no way Katie was going to let this go to shit.  She had been doing search and rescue for three years, and had never found someone outside of a training session.  The universe was laughing at her, no doubt; sending her out here, one of a handful of adrenaline junkies willing to brave the storm to look for one of the world’s most famous exy players.  Of course it had to be her boyfriend’s favorite, too. Just to add that little twist of the knife when she failed. Again.

Tracy had assigned her the trail section that was basically out in east-Jesus-nowhere.  She tried not to take it personally. Stan got the section closest to the point last known, of course.  He always got the good ones, just because he had the dog and the experience and the reputation. It was hard not to resent him sometimes, with his too-white teeth and his leathery tan and that cocky swagger in his voice.  Of fucking course he’d be the one to come down the mountain with Josten tucked into the 'boggan, grinning like he was the one favored to win at the Olympics and not the man he’d rescued.

Still, she knew her job and she would do her job.  And even though she’d end this search as she had all the others, empty-handed, there was literally nothing in the world better than this.  Miles deep in the woods, the hush so profound that it swallowed even the noise of the snowmobile, just herself up against the best nature could throw at her.  The winter woods might be cold and unforgiving, but it could be friendly to those who had patience enough to learn its secrets and she knew every bend in the trail, every dip and rock hidden beneath the snow.  These were her woods.

The radio hummed, and coordinates came through.  Very familiar coordinates. She checked her GPS; damnit, she was so close.  He must be down the little branch trail she had ignored. Turning the snowmobile with the 'boggan around took longer than she wanted it to on the narrow trail.  As soon as she was heading in the right direction, she radioed in that she was on her way.

Her speed may not have been totally reasonable as she made the turn and headed down the slope.  She could feel the sideways pull of the 'boggan behind the snowmobile but it didn’t flip over. A hundred yards down the trail she started to see what might have been ski tracks, nearly erased by the still-heavy snow.  Easing off the gas, she began scanning carefully, looking for anything that might be a human.

There.  A lump that wasn’t a rock, though it was white and gray and black.  She headed for it, stopping a yard away. Definitely a human, but there was no movement she could see.  “I found him,” she radioed in, then dismounted.

“Is he breathing?” came Josh’s voice.  The strain was obvious even through the crappy comm system.  

 _Please be breathing_ , she begged silently.  She knew how to do CPR, of course, but doing CPR alone on a frozen mountain on a hypothermic patient was not an ideal scenario.  Just as she reached to check a pulse, he gave a violent shiver and she felt almost giddy with relief.

“Neil,” she said, then popped off her helmet and said his name again.  He twitched, but his eyes didn’t open. She touched his shoulder and he flinched away and groaned something she couldn’t understand.  “Neil, I’m here to help you.”

Yanking off her mitten, she checked his pulse—too slow—and damn, his skin was cold.  She carefully unzipped his coat to check the layers underneath. At some point he had pulled his arms out of his sleeves into the body of his coat and wrapped them around his torso, and his fingers weren’t much colder than the rest of him.  Thank whatever powers that be, he had worn appropriate clothing, everything high-tech and breathable, nothing soaked through with sweat. Probably why he’d held out as long as he did. But he needed more layers and now that it came down to it she didn’t relish the idea of handling him like some sort of dress-up doll.

The radio buzzed again with an urgent, “Status report?”

Shit.  She bolted to the snowmobile and yanked up the transmitter.  “Alive, nonresponsive, shivering intermittently, bradycardic, good respiration.”

There were warm packs in the panniers, and she yanked a few out and opened them up.  They started warming immediately, and Tracy’s voice came over, “Stan’s on his way. Ten minutes out.  Warm him up.”

 _Yeah, thanks_ , Katie thought at the radio as she crossed back to Neil.  She tucked the warm packs into his shirt, one over each collarbone and one in each armpit, then fed his arms back through his sleeves and zipped his coat all the way up to help hold everything in place.  His mittens were wet and she grabbed her extra pair and tugged them on. He twitched and tried to pull away each time she touched him; it was kind of creepy, and she didn’t know if it was normal for someone this hypothermic.  Technically she was supposed to put a hot pack on his groin; she eyed the area for a second and decided to wait until Stan got there. Or Neil woke up. Hopefully that one.

Zipping up his coat again, she pulled out the long wool blanket wrap from inside the 'boggan cover and carried it over to him.  This part was kind of like swaddling a giant baby, and she’d always found it oddly fun in practice runs. She spread it out on the ground next to him, then started to roll him on his side to slide it under.  As soon as she slid an arm under his shoulders, he gasped, blinking at her with confused eyes.

She didn’t know what to say, so she settled for one of the scripts she had learned.  “Neil, it’s okay. I’m going to get you out of here.”

He closed his eyes and went limp again.  Well, she’d thought it was a good line. He was still breathing, so she finished getting him bundled up in the wool wrap, at which point he was looking up at her again.  “You with me?”

Evidently not, as he closed his eyes again.  Katie found herself wishing Stan would hurry up and get there so she could have a little help getting him wrapped in the reflective blanket and on the 'boggan.  They had maybe an hour worth of daylight, and that was without the heavy clouds and snow. There was no part of her that wanted to be driving a snowmobile with a million-dollar athlete in her 'boggan down a mountain in the dark and driving snow.  

“ETA on Stan?” she radioed in.

“Seven minutes,” came Tracy’s unruffled voice.  “How’s he doing?”

“Okay, I think,” Katie answered, chewing on her lip as she looked down at her charge.  He looked so small, wrapped up like that. Like a child. He wasn’t really much bigger than a child, come to think of it.  “He woke up when I moved him.”

There was a strange sound and a blast of reverb, then an unfamiliar voice, deep and strained, came through the device.  “Neil.”

Katie raised the radio to her mouth to tell the man that Neil was unconscious again, but the words died on her lips when he sat up, clear blue eyes staring with preternatural intensity at the comm device.

*****

Neil knew he was floating between unconsciousness and reality, but he wasn’t sure which was the dream.  He had been certain that he was sleeping curled up on a plain sheet on the floor of an abandoned house, but this felt real too.  Certainly he didn’t think he could be imagining the brush of snow against his eyelashes. And Andrew…If the house was real, then Andrew was a dream, and he didn’t think he could bear that.

He opened up his mouth to speak, but the only thing that came out was an unintelligible jumble, interrupted by a whole body shudder he couldn’t control.  There was a woman standing by a very large snowmobile. She started to turn to him, then shook her head once and put her hand to her mouth instead. “He’s conscious,” she said, and Neil was confused for a second before he realized she was talking into a handheld radio.  

Static came back through, and voices he couldn’t understand, as she dropped to her knees in front of him and held out a black metal canister.  He stared at it, not sure what it was or what he was supposed to do with it. She unscrewed the top and steam wafted out, smelling of chocolate.  Oh.

Every instinct told him to move, to run, to get away from this stranger but his legs refused to cooperate.  Another indistinct noise came out of his traitorous mouth. Why was his body rebelling against him so completely?

“Drink it, Neil,” the woman said, a bite of impatience in her voice.  “Before it gets cold. You need the warmth.”

As if to punctuate her words, a violent shiver overtook him.  It was strange, he didn’t really feel cold; all he had was a memory of cold and it felt like it was so long ago.  He tried to reach for the canister, but he couldn’t move his arms. She reached and helped free them from the thick wrap he’d somehow ended up bundled in, and then his hands were shaking so hard his whole body was rocking.  The woman’s forehead crinkled, and she held the cup up to his mouth. With an effort, he took hold of it and let himself drink.

The first swallow burned down his throat.  He grimaced and lowered the container, but the woman shook her head.  “You need to drink more,” she ordered, and he was reminded rather forcibly of Dan.  He wanted to argue, but the painful heat was fading in his belly and he took another mouthful, then another.  This time warmth spread deliciously through his body. He found himself draining the canister. With each sip all his senses got sharper; he could smell the pine, feel the cold softness of the snow surrounding his legs, and hear more distinct voices through the radio.

One voice in particular, saying his name with increasing urgency.  “Andrew,” he called, or tried to. It came out more like “Ndrwooo” but the woman seemed to understand.

“Let me get you in the 'boggan,” she said.  “Get you back home.”

Home.  Dimly he recalled a sunlit apartment with a wall full of windows, a fireplace, curling up on the couch with two cats and a slightly lumpy blanket Renee had made when learning to crochet.  But that was hundreds of miles away, and his real home was here, in that lodge they had rented. No; his real home was talking through the radio right now.

“Abram.”  It wasn’t a name so much as a command, and Neil couldn’t have resisted it.  Some part of him thought Andrew’s voice, saying his name like that, could bring him back from the dead.  Close enough, anyway.

With a herculean effort he got to his feet; the woman cursed and dropped the empty canister in the snow, lunging for Neil as he swayed and nearly went down.  “Boy, you don’t do anything halfway, do you,” she muttered, sliding an arm under his and barely managing to keep him on his feet.

His laugh came out more as a cough.  But he knew where he was going, and god damn him, he was going to get there.  The woman realized what he was after and with a grumbling sigh she reached for the radio and held it up in front of his face.

The first attempt at words failed miserably.  He cleared his throat and concentrated on unsticking his tongue.  “Andrew,” he finally got out, quiet but clear. “I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! Hypothermia tends to make people disoriented and they can stop even realizing that they're cold.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew stresses; Neil returns; Nicky, Aaron, Erik, and Katelyn appear.

This was absolutely worse than Baltimore.  

Andrew had thought he had come to terms with waiting.  Most of his life had been waiting: for someone to care, for someone to notice.  For someone to stop. For a family, for a way out. For Neil, in more ways than one.  But he wasn’t sure he could cope with waiting any more.

He had never spent two more agonizing minutes than those between the sentence “I found him” and the word “alive.”  And now he was stuck here, having wrested control over the radio from the overly patient people in charge of it, waiting again.  If he didn’t hear Neil’s voice sometime in the next forty five seconds, his knives were going to find some damage to do. At the moment, it was roughly even odds of where the damage would be inflicted.

Two pairs of eyes were trained on him, but he didn’t give a shit.  “Neil.” Maybe he should say something more; maybe it was like with coma patients, where they claim the patient can understand.  But with Neil, it was never just a name anyway. It was a choice, a decision to live out of sheer spite and defiance. A costume he had worn so long it had become real.  

The woman’s voice crackled back over the radio.  “He’s conscious.”

Andrew allowed himself one second to close his eyes, to breathe, to swallow down his relief, then he said Neil’s name again.  And again. And again.

Frustration at the silence nipped at him, eroding away the patience he had been forced to learn all those years ago.  His fingers clenched tighter around the transmitter as the echoing silence was broken by the woman next to him shifting in her chair.  He turned so his back was to her, looking out the little window of the camper to the white world beyond. Neil was out there. He was out there, and alive, and no longer alone.  

It didn’t feel real; it wouldn’t, until he had Neil under his eyes and hands again.  What if the woman had found some other lost skier? Or what if her saying she found him at all was just some desperate hallucination?  That would be fitting, after all.

He gritted his teeth then forcibly relaxed his jaw before giving it one last try.  “Abram.” If there was ever any magic in speaking a true name, he willed it to work now.  

Seconds ticked past, and Andrew’s shoulders were starting to ache when there was a buzz, a muffled sound, and then, clear as day, “Andrew.  I’m here.”

It was weak, and it was hoarse, but it was undeniably Neil’s voice.  Relief swept over Andrew, and came out his mouth as, “You’re a fucking idiot, Josten.”

The man who had given him the charging cord earlier coughed.  Andrew ignored him in favor of Neil’s pale excuse for a chuckle.  “I know. I’m coming home now. Skiing sucks.” 

The fool was lucky he was somewhere in the middle of the woods in that moment, or Andrew would have knocked his head off.  Or kissed him senseless. Whichever; both options sounded good. There was a flicker of static, then the unfamiliar woman’s voice came through.  “We’re heading back once I get him situated. If I go straight down this trail, I end up on thirty-two, I think about a mile down from the ski resort?”

The guy clicked his mouse a couple of times, tapped in a few keystrokes, and studied the screen, then held out his hand at Andrew in silent request.  Andrew dropped the transmitter into his hand. “Looks about right,” the guy said. “We’ll have an ambulance waiting at the street.” He then flipped a switch and spoke back into the comm system, a jumble of words. Andrew didn’t even try to listen.  His junkie was coming home.

*****

Naturally, as soon as he was fully wrapped up in every imaginable layer, stuffed into the sled, and cinched down like a breathing roof rack, Neil had to pee.

Katie, who had finally introduced herself sometime around the time she handed him a hot pack to stuff down his pants, sighed and unstrapped him, then supported him into the woods.  At least she walked away while he actually urinated. They were still in the process of re-bundling him when Neil caught the rumble of another motor. He stiffened up, but Katie gave a tiny sigh.

“It’s just Stan,” she said, as if Neil should know who that was.  

A snowmobile came around the curve then, nearly a twin of the one Katie had, complete with sled and heavily layered driver.  The exception was the Labrador who was balanced on the back of the snowmobile, and who leaped down as soon as the driver pulled to a stop and bounded over to breathe in Neil’s face.

The man popped his helmet off and grinned at Neil and Katie.  He kind of reminded Neil of one of the teachers in that wizard movie Nicky had made him watch, with a too-white smile and a swagger that didn’t belong in the middle of a snowstorm.  “Hey Katie,” he said. “Looks like you’ve got everything covered.”

Neil thought he heard Katie’s teeth grind against each other but that was probably impossible.  “Think so, Stan,” she said, finishing the last strap and standing. “Thanks for being backup.”

“How you doing, man?” the guy asked, bending over Neil.  “You get something hot to drink?”

Neil wrestled with the urge to say something shitty and won, narrowly.  “Yeah,” he rasped out. “Now I just want to get back home as soon as I can.”

Stan laughed and threw his hands up.  “I hear ya. Here.” He bent down, reaching for the newly tightened straps.  

“What are you doing?” Neil snapped.  He heard Katie echoing him and almost smiled.

“Gibbs can ride down with you.”  Stan gestured to the dog, who looked overjoyed at the prospect of tucking himself in next to Neil.  “Body heat.”

Part of him wanted to reject the offer just on principle, but the black dog wagged so happily at the prospect of helping that he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  Even Katie seemed to grudgingly agree, and helped open up the outer wrap. Gibbs promptly flopped down next to Neil, laying his oversized head on his shoulder while they were zipped and strapped back in.  The rustle of a wagging tail against nylon was audible until Katie started up the snowmobile, and then Neil could still feel it, a soft heartbeat against his shin.

He fixed his eyes on Katie’s back as they started down the slope.  His shivering got worse as they drove, and he didn’t understand it.  The dog seemed concerned; he nudged Neil with his nose and shifted even closer.  “I’m okay,” Neil told him, though his teeth were chattering so hard he wasn’t sure the words were even intelligible.  Gibbs seemed happy with the response, settling back in with a contented sigh.

The sky above was darkening, snow falling from a blanket of steel gray instead of pearly white.  A torrent of flakes caught in the headlights of the snowmobile, glowing like a river of stars falling towards earth.  Everything felt vaguely surreal as they traveled down the mountain. Neil still wasn’t certain this wasn’t a dream, though the ache of his muscles from the effort of shivering felt real.  But he had had painfully realistic dreams before. Exhaustion dragged at him; a large part of him wanted to let his eyes close, but he didn’t want to wake up back in Millport. If Andrew was a dream, he’d choose to keep on dreaming.

*****

“Hey, man,” the comm guy said as Andrew headed to his car.  He stopped and turned to face him. “Let me give you a ride.”

“I can drive.”  They had taken Neil’s SUV specifically to deal with snow, and though Andrew hated driving the goddamn thing it did its job well.  

The man shrugged.  “Yeah, but I figured you’d want to ride in the ambulance with your hubby.”  Andrew didn’t bother to correct him and he went on. “You can’t leave the car on the side of the road in a blizzard, it’ll get whacked by a plow.  It’ll be safe here.”

Andrew thought about it for a second, but as much as he hated getting in a car with a stranger the man had a point.  He crossed to where the man had stopped by one of the gray trucks and climbed into the passenger side. They ended up behind a snow plow, the man driving with relaxed ease on the freshly cleared and sanded road.  The cab was silent on the drive over, the only noise being the chime of Andrew’s phone. He pulled it out and checked it; another text from Nicky. Eventually he’d have to deal with that, but not now. Not until he had Neil.

The spot where they pulled over just looked like a random roadside, just the smallest gap in the trees evident.  Andrew’s skin prickled, and his fingers found his armbands when the engine cut off. “Not sure how long it’ll take,” the man said.  “Katie’s gonna be more careful now she’s got your man in the ‘boggan. Otherwise she’d already be here, she’s a hell of a driver.” There was a glimmer of amusement in the man’s face; some sort of private joke, Andrew guessed.  

A couple more minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness.  Andrew fought the impulse to pull out one of his knives and start playing with it, forcing his fingers into stillness.  Finally red lights appeared, bouncing off the snowbanks he could see in the side-view mirror. The ambulance pulled up next to the truck, and the comm guy rolled down his window to explain the situation.  

Andrew only half-listened, catching his own name and Neil’s as well as the flicker of eyes in his direction.  Nearly a decade of fame—or infamy, depending on the point of view—had largely inured him to the glances and the whispers, the rumors and innuendo.  But though he had no objections to coming out, this would not have been his preferred way to do so. He shoved that thought aside. None of it mattered until he had Neil safely back in his arms.    

His phone rang, nearly making him jump.  Nicky. Of fucking course. He rejected the call, only to have the phone go off again immediately.  He nodded at the men who were now staring at him curiously and popped open the door, dropping out into the snowbank that lined the road.  “What.”

“Seriously, Andrew?  Where the fuck are you guys?”

Andrew closed his eyes and clenched his free hand.  The fact that Nicky and Aaron were driving up with their significant others from Boston today had been driven out of his mind with Neil’s phone call, and he had locked the rented cabin on his way out.  He opened his eyes again and tuned in mid-rant. “...believe we flew all the way here and then drove three hours in a blizzard and you two are off doing God knows what and you left us locked out. It’s Christmas!  Come on, Andrew, I thought we’d gotten past this shit. And Neil’s phone is just going straight to voicemail, of course. I mean—”

“Nicky—”

“Oh, what, you’re actually going to speak to me?  Like, relay actual information?” There was a humorless laugh through the phone.  “After you couldn’t be bothered to answer, I don’t know, a single one of my damn texts all day?”

Andrew swallowed the automatic  _ fuck you _ that came to his lips.  “Just go to the main office.”

“The main office.  The one that is closed because of the blizzard that no sane person would be out in?  You know what, just put Neil on the phone.”

“I can’t.”

There was finally a pause, then, “What do you mean, you can’t?  Why not?” 

“Because I’m standing on the side of the road with an ambulance waiting for the search and rescue team to bring Neil down off the mountain.”

There was incoherent stammering for a while, and Andrew could hear other voices in the background, then Aaron must have grabbed the phone.  “What the fuck?”

Andrew gritted his teeth over having to explain, but he could hear the note of concern in Aaron’s voice.  “Neil went skiing this morning.”

“Of course he did.”

“The storm hit and he got lost.”

Aaron snorted.  “I thought he was never lost.  And never found.”

And Aaron claimed to not have an eidetic memory.   _ Ha _ .  “Well, they found him and they’re bringing him down now.”

“Which hospital are you going to?”  There was rustling and Andrew pictured Aaron pulling his own phone out to search for local ones.  

“I’m not sure.  I’ll text you once I know.”  

“Fine.”  There was a short pause, and then Aaron asked, “Is he okay?”

Andrew knew what he was asking.  “Hypothermia, probably, but I talked to him.”

“Good.  Good. Okay.”  The line went dead and Andrew tucked his phone back into his pocket.  His fingers itched for his cigarettes but he pulled them up into his sleeves instead.  A glance into the truck showed the comm man’s eyes on him. He should go back into the warm, but it still seemed somehow wrong, with Neil not yet fully safe.

When his cheeks began to burn with the cold and his nose hairs were freezing, he turned to open the truck door.  The distant sound of a motor stopped him with his hand on the handle. No; two motors. Definitely two. 

A light speared through the darkness, flashing like a strobe as it passed through the trees, a second not far behind.  The ambulance pulled up in front of the truck and the passenger got out to stand by the back door. Andrew acknowledged him with a nod, turning back to the woods before he could see if he received one in return.  

It felt like one of those dreams where no matter how fast he ran after something, it never got any closer.  An eternity passed while he waited for the snowmobiles to break through the narrow gap between the trees, but finally, finally, the lead one was pulling to a stop in front of the ambulance, Neil a surprisingly large lumpy mass on the sled behind it.  The driver leaped off as the EMT and Andrew both waded through the snow to Neil, Andrew stumbling in the snow but still getting there first. 

Neil was so swallowed up in blankets that all Andrew could see were his eyes, exhausted but alert.  Relief almost took Andrew off his feet. He pressed a gloved hand to Neil’s cheek, needing to feel that he was there.  There was an odd thumping and rustling coming from somewhere in the sled, and then a large black dog head emerged from the cover at Neil’s shoulder.  The dog appeared to still be keeping itself plastered across Neil and Andrew and the dog stared at each other for a moment until Neil shifted, drawing Andrew’s attention back to him.

“Andrew,” Neil murmured, barely audible through the layers covering him.  

“Junkie.”   _ You fucking idiot _ .  Neil heard the words Andrew didn’t say, and his eyes crinkled in a smile Andrew couldn’t see.

The EMTs were now crowding around them, with the driver of the snowmobile and then some other random man that Andrew assumed had been driving the second snowmobile.  Half a dozen hands began to work, unstrapping and unzipping, revealing a still-swaddled Neil and the rest of the dog. With a whistle from the unknown man, the dog leaped off the sled and bounded through the snow after a thrown toy.  Neil watched him go, somehow pushing himself up into a sitting position despite the wrapping.

“We’re not getting a dog,” Andrew said, and Neil gave a weak chuckle.  Andrew wanted to bottle the sound; he wanted to kiss him to drink it in.

One of the EMTs tried to shoulder Andrew out of the way but froze at his glare.  “Sorry. We need to get him into the ambulance.”

Andrew moved around the sled so he was standing behind Neil’s shoulder while they removed him from the outer layer of wrapping.  The inside was shiny, like foil; he felt a fleeting crow-like urge to touch it but Neil was tilting his head back to look at Andrew and there was something in his eyes that made everything else just...fade.

In less than a minute he was following Neil into the ambulance and settling onto the bench that was next to the stretcher.  “Strap in,” the EMT said with a glance at Andrew, before turning to Neil and gently unwrapping him. “Can you tell me what happened?” he asked, sticking his stethoscope in his ears and putting it against Neil’s chest for a moment.  

Neil told them about the trail he had followed up the mountain, how he had been lulled by the calm and the unchanging pearl-gray sky, by the unearthly quiet.  How he had traveled so much farther than he had intended, mesmerized by the hiss of skis on snow. How when the first flakes fell he had turned around, expecting to be able to make it home easily only to find himself encountering a curtain of snow and a punishing wind only a few minutes later.  How he had pushed on, and on, certain he would see his turnoff back towards the trail; how all the landmarks he had memorized had been swallowed up, inch by inch, in swirling white.

His words were spare, quiet, but the terror in his voice filled the ambulance.  The EMT asked a few questions here and there as he placed the IV and puttered around.  When Neil relayed his desperate phone call to Andrew to admit his predicament, Andrew wanted to throw both their phones out the fucking window.  Of course, the phones dropped all of the useful fucking words. Bile rose in his throat as he realized how lucky they were that the search and rescue team had found Neil.  Lucky. Not a word he used much, but he was beginning to appreciate that it may have a place in his vocabulary. 

Andrew’s phone pinged when Neil’s story was drawing to a close, and he checked it, expecting a message from Aaron or Nicky demanding to know where they were headed.  Instead, Kevin’s name popped up.  _ Wtf happened _ .  As if this wasn’t all his fault.  As if he wasn’t the asshole who introduced the exercise junkie to death-on-waxed-boards to begin with.

“I’m going to fucking kill Kevin,” Andrew muttered, “and you’re not allowed to stop me.”

The EMT stared at him in shock, and Neil glanced at him.  “Different Kevin,” Neil said to him, then turned to Andrew.  “This is not his fault.”

Andrew realized belatedly that the name on the EMT’s uniform was Kevin.  Oh well. “What hospital are we going to?” he asked instead of wasting his breath explaining.

“Burlington Pres,” the EMT said after a brief hesitation.

Andrew nodded and tapped out a text to Aaron.  A second later he got, _ See you there _ , and he tucked his phone away.  Neil was looking at him, a desperate softness in his eyes, and Andrew reached out to rest a hand on his forehead.   _ I’m here _ , he thought.   _ We’re here _ .  As if he had spoken aloud, Neil smiled and closed his eyes, his breathing deepening as he gave in to the exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gibbs is a real S & R dog! He deserves to be in this fic.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil celebrates the last bit of Christmas Eve with his family, then Christmas morning with Andrew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second half of this is NSFW, so be warned.

The cabin’s lights illuminated the snow, turning long squares of the winter landscape golden.  It was beautiful, even if Neil had had his fill of snow for a while. He found it hard to believe it was the same day, though barely; he had left the cabin at seven in the morning, and was walking back through the door at eleven thirty eight.

“Look!” Nicky exclaimed, slinging his free arm across Neil’s shoulders while the hand carrying his luggage gestured at the clock that hung in the entryway.  “Santa hasn’t even come yet!”

Aaron prodded Nicky’s back while stomping his boots on the doormat.  “Get him away from the drafts.” Neil wanted to snap at him that he wasn’t a child, but suddenly just standing was taking too much of his energy and if he let Nicky half-support him on the way over to the couch nobody had to know.

It grated on him to sit on the couch, bundled in a blanket Nicky had found, while Erik debated if it was too late to start a fire and Aaron, Andrew, and Katelyn unpacked groceries.  Time was stretching like taffy, sometimes seconds and sometimes minutes passing between blinks. Andrew’s hand on his cheek brought the room back into focus and he gazed blearily at his family.

“Tea?” Katelyn asked.  “Or bed?”

“We can’t go to bed!” Nicky protested.  “We need to open a Christmas Eve gift!”

“Technically it’s already Christmas,” Aaron pointed out.  Neil checked his watch; six minutes after midnight.

“It doesn’t count as Christmas until we’ve gone to bed.  Everyone opens one gift tonight.” Nicky said it like it was a settled thing, but he glanced around in case anyone protested.  

Katelyn smiled her sweet smile and brushed nonexistent dirt off her hands.  “Who wants hot chocolate, and who wants tea? We got cinnamon apple, Neil.”

“That sounds fine.”  

A chorus clamoring for hot chocolate went up around him, and Katelyn slipped into the kitchen to start heating milk and water.  Everyone else started picking through the mound of presents that had appeared in front of the empty fireplace while Neil had been sitting uselessly.  He hadn’t even noticed them being brought in, and his oversight made his heart rate pick up for a moment. But this was his family; more of one than he had ever imagined he could have; and he was as safe as he could ever be.  

By the time Katelyn shoved a warm mug into his hands, Nicky had selected one gift for each person to open.  Neil wasn’t sure why Nicky always got to choose which presents got opened on Christmas Eve, but it was the way it had worked for as long as they had shared Christmases.  Andrew dropped onto the couch next to him, waving a large cookie in Neil’s general direction.

Neil looked from the cookie to Andrew, whose attention was occupied by the fancy gift bag in front of him, and then around at the rest of the family.  “Lebkuchen,” Nicky said. “We brought a whole assortment with us.”

“Just eat the damn thing,” Aaron ordered, settling onto the floor between Katelyn’s feet.  “You burned god only knows how many calories out there being a dumbass.” Everyone else had a cookie or three, Neil realized, and lebkuchen had been one of his favorites when he had lived in Germany.  He took the cookie and nibbled at one edge, the rich spice spreading over his tongue while Erik reached for his present.

They always opened gifts in order of reverse age, a tradition he suspected Nicky had started as the second oldest in the group.  Neil didn’t mind always going last; it meant everyone’s attention was more often drawn to their own presents than to him. Erik predictably gushed over the giant photography book Aaron had gotten him; he was still mid-sentence when Nicky started tearing the paper off his gift.  

Neil knew what it was; Andrew had spent ages going through little boutiques near their house until he had found it.  Even Neil had to admit the sweater was pretty, and soft enough he kind of wished he could use it for a pillow, though the specifics of the fiber types used in the yarn were lost on him.  Not on Nicky, though; he traced the intricate stitch pattern and thanked Andrew again and again, until Andrew finally interrupted him by yanking the tissue paper out of his gift bag.

Katelyn was wringing her hands as Andrew pulled out her offering, a long black scarf.  He nodded his thanks at her before wrapping the scarf around his neck. Neil noticed a flash of a lighter color on the oddly shaped ends of the scarf, and he grabbed it to look closer.  One end had small pink paw prints; the other green eyes and whiskers. A quiet laugh bubbled out of him, and he could see the amused approval deep in Andrew’s eyes as well. He hoped Katelyn could recognize it; judging by the way her face had lit up, he guessed she had.

Aaron, who for once had not grumbled about the fact that they didn’t really know which twin was older, studied the heavy box in front of him for a long moment before carefully unwrapping it.  Neil hadn’t been sure what to get him, but he had read an article about med students on clinics all being sleep deprived. Aaron and Katelyn both stared, slack jawed, at the commercial-grade espresso machine Neil had picked out.  “Holy shit,” Aaron muttered. 

“Wow, Neil,” Katelyn said.  “You have no idea how much use this thing is going to get.”

He just nodded at them, too tired to think of what to say.  The focus he had been able to summon thanks to the tea and cookie was starting to fade.  Part of him felt like he was floating; Andrew’s hand stole to the back of his neck, and he thought that was the only thing that kept him from being washed away by invisible currents.  He could barely register Katelyn pulling a necklace out of a small box, and getting up to kiss a grinning Nicky on the cheek. Then Andrew’s hand squeezed the back of his neck, and he realized it was his turn.

The box was heavy for its size, precisely wrapped in such a way that he didn’t have to check to confirm it was from Erik.  For some reason his fingers were trembling slightly as he undid the tape and opened the box.

An intricately carved scene greeted his eyes, a village with tiny trees dotted between the small houses, and three people, carolers Neil believed, standing in the middle.  It was mostly natural wood, only a few painted details bringing it to life, and it sat on a richly stained wooden base.

“It’s a music box,” Erik said, and Neil wondered how long he had sat there staring at the lovely little thing.  His fingers fumbled around the base until they found the key and twisted it, and it began to play the slow, familiar tune of Silent Night. 

They all sat there in silence while the song played, Aaron leaning against Katelyn, Nicky and Erik with their soft smiles.  Andrew, warm and solid, his thigh pressed against Neil’s and his hand still a comforting weight on his neck. It felt a bit like this moment was stretching out into infinity; as if they had always been here, in this cabin, listening to a song that millions of people had heard, each a thousand times.  Neil stared out the window, where the snow had piled up against the bottom panes, through the superficial reflection of his family into the fathomless blackness of the night outside. 

The last few notes sounded, poignant and clear.  Nobody moved; everybody seemed caught up in the spell the little music box had woven over them all.  Neil was lost again in wondering what was a dream; if he had ever been found, or if he was still adrift in the world.

He wanted something physical, something tangible to prove that this was his real self.  He wanted Andrew to ground him in this reality, to drive into him until all he knew was the sensations of this body and all the cold and terror and malleability of time was chased away.  He wanted Andrew to make love to him, sharing breaths and tongues and their tiny murmured encouragements. He wanted, he wanted, he wanted. He had so much already.

But his mind was slipping and time again was slipping, and before he registered getting up from the couch he was in the vast bed, enveloped in Andrew’s arms and legs, and there was no stopping the wave of exhaustion that crashed over him.  Reality would have to wait until the morning.

*****

The subtle shifting of the bed had Andrew cracking an eye open.  The room was still dark; he wondered how long they had slept. Not long enough, judging by the sluggish way his brain was coming online.  He blinked, unfamiliar with this slow reboot, and reached out to touch empty, still-warm sheets.

Neil was sitting on the edge of the bed, his arms wrapped around himself.  Andrew couldn’t tell if it was from cold or the aftershocks of a nightmare.  Neil turned at Andrew’s movement. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Andrew squinted up at his face; quiet shadows danced in his eyes.  Nightmare, then. He glanced at the clock on Neil’s nightstand. “You’re not getting up.”

Neil shrugged.  “I’m not going to be able to get back to sleep.  I might as well get up and make breakfast, I think Nicky said he got pancake mix.”

“We went to bed less than five hours ago.”

“I know.”  Neil shifted to get up; he was fast on his feet, but Andrew’s reflexes had always been better.  He snaked an arm around Neil’s waist and yanked him back. He released him as soon as he was sprawled on the bed; six months after permanently moving in together they were both okay with spontaneous touches, but it still could make his skin crawl at times.

But Neil was laughing quietly, smiling up at him with such affection shining in his face it was hard to look at.  He moved to get up again, a little game they sometimes played on days off, and Andrew tugged him back against his chest.  “What was your nightmare about?” he murmured in Neil’s ear.

Neil’s laughter cut off and he twisted to face Andrew.  “It wasn’t a nightmare.” He reached up and hovered a hand over Andrew’s cheek and Andrew nodded.  A part of him would always hate the reverent way Neil touched him. As if he were something valuable, precious.  He wanted to close his eyes and just concentrate on the feel of Neil’s thumb tracing his cheekbone, the delicate press of fingers along his jaw, then stroking into his hair.  It wasn’t fair, the way Neil could undo him with the simplest touch. But there was more lurking behind Neil’s words and he forced himself to focus on waiting him out.

“I just woke up, because this is when I always get up.  And then I couldn’t get back to sleep.” There was a long pause while Neil searched for words, and when he spoke again his voice was so quiet Andrew had to strain to hear him.  “When I was out there, and I was getting confused...I couldn’t tell where I was. Well, when I was, I guess. Part of me thought I was still squatting, and that this—you—that it was all just some kind of dream.  And when I woke up just now, that was all I could think about. It all seems so surreal sometimes, you know?” He rubbed his thumb over Andrew’s earlobe, smiling a little at the resulting shiver. “I mean, how did I get this lucky, that I get to have this?”

Andrew should not have to deal with this so early in the morning.  On a major holiday, at that. This was going to be the death of him, this…  “What do I have to do to get you to shut up and go back to sleep?” 

“What do you think you have to do?”  Neil grinned, leaning forward to lightly brush his nose against Andrew’s.

“Smother you with a pillow?” 

“After all you went through yesterday to get me back?”  

His breath tickled Andrew’s lips, the odd sensation shooting straight to his groin.  He grumbled and shoved at Neil’s shoulder. Neil rolled easily onto his back, legs falling open just the perfect amount for Andrew to slot himself into.  

This was achingly familiar, the shape and size of Neil’s narrow body underneath him, the taste of his mouth, the feel of fingers burying themselves in his hair.  He had memorized it the first time, all those years ago, and every fucking time it felt like coming home.  _ You almost lost this _ .  The thought sprang into his head unbidden, as if spoken by some malicious god, and he tried to will it away.  

_ You almost lost this _ .

He slipped one hand under Neil’s rucked up t-shirt, feeling the ridges and smoothness of his scars, the vital warmth of his skin, then letting his palm rest over the steady drum of Neil’s heart.  The kisses were slow, leisurely, almost lazy, and Andrew lost track of time as he let himself get drunk on the wine that was the glide of Neil’s tongue, the tiny hitches of his breath. When he finally paused there was faint gray light filtering through the curtains, and he realized with a kind of stupid surprise that they were both hard.

“There’s condoms and lube in my suitcase,” Neil said, running fingers down the back of Andrew’s neck to his shoulder blade.  “If you want.”

“You’re not supposed to exert yourself.”  Andrew swallowed whatever Neil was going to say in response with another kiss, but he couldn’t keep himself from remembering the feel of making Neil fall apart underneath him.  

A rock of Neil’s hips against him brought him back to the moment.  “I’m not supposed to go running. They didn’t say anything about sex.  Besides, you’d be doing most of the work.” Andrew pushed himself up on his elbows to glare and Neil gave him that smile, that damn smile that was only for him, a mix of cocky and sweet without the knife-edge he whetted on everyone else.  “I can go ask Aaron if that’ll make you feel better.”

“Go right ahead,” Andrew said, rolling off.  “Go wake him up and ask him if it’s okay for you to get fucked by his brother twelve hours after you almost died from hypothermia.”

He would never get tired of the brightness of Neil’s laughter, or the way it drove away the insidious voice in his head.  He would never get tired of the gentle way Neil’s fingers twisted themselves in his shirt, tugging him back into his proper place.  He would never get tired of the way Neil made him want to yield.

Neil’s mouth broke from his to trail along his jaw and down his throat, taking with it the majority of his rational thought.  He never fully lost control but damn Neil could pull him to the brink, so easily. Yet his hands were gentle as they tugged Neil’s shirt over his head, and he let himself taste every inch of skin exposed, lingering over the deepest, longest slash above his navel until Neil was writhing beneath him.

A glance up at Neil, and a nod in return, had him slipping the worn PSU sweatpants over Neil’s hips.  He teased with his fingers, then his lips, high up on the inside of Neil’s thigh, an area that always drew a high-pitched whimper from that smart mouth.  He wouldn’t admit it, but he loved the musky smell of him, so uniquely Neil that it always grounded him. 

He took Neil’s cock into his mouth with practiced ease, swirling his tongue under the ridge the way he knew he liked.  It would be easy to get Neil off like this, and then himself; and maybe then they could go back to the sleep they both desperately needed.   

Neil moaning his name had him looking up even as he swallowed around him.  “Andrew, I know you— _ fuck _ —I know you don’t want me to overdo it but I was serious before.”  Andrew pulled off Neil’s cock with an obscene noise to better study his face.  “I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

Andrew would be lying if he said he didn’t want to be in Neil, to feel him clenching around him, to kiss him deeply as he came.  They still stuck mostly to mouths and hands, but there were no ghosts lurking for them here. Except that word,  _ lucky _ , that kept reverberating through the room.  He leaned over the edge of the bed and opened Neil’s suitcase.

Taking his time working Neil open was rewarding in and of itself, the little gasps and moans and the way Neil’s legs spread further and further of their own accord.  Teasing at his prostate was even better, earning him twitches and quiet curses and Neil’s hand closing convulsively on his own cock. He could willingly stare at Neil’s bitten lip and blown pupils until the end of time but Neil’s eyes were pleading and he could never resist that look.

He pulled his fingers out and shoved his sweatpants down to his knees before running his slicked up fingers lightly over his own erection.  Stripping his shirt off, he wiped his hands on it and reached for the condom. Neil’s eyes roamed over his body; he had never made much of a secret of his little obsession with Andrew’s chest and arms, and he released his cock to reach up and run his hand over Andrew’s pecs while Andrew finished prepping himself.

Andrew had never been able to stop holding his breath each time he eased into Neil.  He didn’t even know what he was watching for anymore; there had never been anything but this, Neil looking up at him with the words they both struggled so hard to say writ large across that expressive face.  When he bottomed out, he leaned down to kiss him, Neil stretching up to meet his mouth. 

He kept his movements slow, timed with the slide of their tongues against each other.  As the pleasure built it became harder and harder to hold the kiss, lips and teeth colliding sloppily until finally Neil gave up altogether and let himself drop back against the bed.  Andrew bit the inside of his cheek to hold back his orgasm at the sight of Neil sprawled out, body flushed, one hand stripping his cock almost mindlessly. 

“Andrew,” Neil gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets.  It was the only warning he managed before his body tightened around Andrew and he was coming all over his chest and abdomen.  Still panting, Neil half sat up to meet Andrew’s seeking mouth, and Andrew closed his eyes against the burning in them as he went over the edge with a few more rolls of his hips.

He allowed himself a controlled collapse onto Neil, still keeping most of his weight off of him.  Neil wrapped his arms loosely around him and pressed his lips softly against his hair. They came down entangled together, their breathing syncing as they both regained control.  

A part of Andrew wanted to lay there all day like that, skin on skin, nothing else in the world but the two of them.  But the come was drying sticky on their bodies, and the condom was getting uncomfortable, and eventually the others would wake up.  With an effort he pushed himself off and handed Neil his discarded shirt.

They rinsed off together, a thirty-second process made far longer by Andrew’s still insatiable need to kiss Neil.  And miracle of miracles, it was Neil who suggested they go back to bed, his voice coarse with fatigue. They didn’t bother to get dressed; Andrew just pulled Neil in against his chest and they used each other’s body heat to re-warm the sheets.  

There was a weightiness to his fatigue, a deeper quiet than he was used to.  He understood why Neil had made his request; everything felt more solid, more real.  As if the earth had stopped spinning too fast, and had settled into its normal rotation.  Neil’s body was heavy and calm against him, his breathing slowing, muscles lax. Just before they dropped into sleep, Neil murmured, “Merry Christmas, Andrew.”

He could feel Neil’s smile against his chest, and wondered if Neil could sense his own.  “Merry Christmas, junkie.”


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh the Comm Guy has an unexpectedly good day.

Josh watched the newest nor’easter howling out his kitchen window, hoping that for once he’d be able to ride this one out at home.  His gear was ready by the door into the garage, the truck was gassed, his phone was charged, and he was doing the most boring thing he could think of, sorting through his mail while nibbling on two-week-old Christmas cookies.  

Decades had proven that the universe had a shit sense of humor.  Being unprepared increased the likelihood of getting a call by approximately 736%.  Getting involved in a really good movie bumped it up to a guarantee. If ever he was going to pacify whatever gods were in charge of Murphy’s Law, it was today.

They were still dealing with occasional calls from reporters after they had brought Neil Josten down off the mountain.  Josh wasn’t sure how they had found out; he was absolutely certain none of his people would have given it away. It could have been the hospital; it could have been Josten himself, who knew.  Though from how Minyard was, Josh kind of doubted the latter. 

“Someday I’m going to get mail that is not just junk and bills,” Josh grumbled to Christina.  She glanced up from her computer and smiled at him. 

“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” she said, turning back to whatever she was working on.  He watched her for a moment, the little changes in her expression as her eyes tracked something on her screen.  He could read everything on her face; whatever she was looking at was amusing, judging by the deepening of the fine wrinkles next to her eyes, the little twitches of her mouth.  

“Cat video?” he guessed.

“Hmm?  No, Hannah sent me this thing.”

He waited, but no more information was forthcoming so he turned back to his mail, wondering what silliness his daughter had found this time.  Most of the time he didn’t get the jokes, but Christina always seemed to enjoy them.

Near the bottom of the stack, tucked behind a catalogue for some stupid home goods store, was a thin, cream-colored envelope.  It was addressed to him, with ℅ The Green Mountain Search and Rescue Foundation written below; the return address was of a legal firm in Boston.  His heart started pounding, a million different thoughts racing through his head, each one worse than the last. Christina was still engrossed in whatever she was looking at.  With a hard swallow, he flipped the envelope over and ripped it open.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before Christina’s voice registered.  “Josh! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”  It came out as a croak; he cleared his throat and tried again.  “Nothing. Just...read this.”

His hand was shaking as he passed both sheets of paper over.  Her mouth dropped as she scanned it, then flipped to the second sheet.  “Is this a joke?”

“Doesn’t seem to be.”

“Josh…”

He started to laugh.  He wanted to swing her up in his arms and dance her across the kitchen as he used to; he wanted to call every member of his team and listen to their yells.  

“Who would do this?” Christina whispered.  “Who  _ could _ do this?”  She set the letter down carefully on the table.  “It must have been that athlete. Neil Jorsten, or whatever his name was.  Who else could possibly anonymously donate fifty thousand dollars to a search and rescue team?”

Josh had his suspicions.  It was an athlete who had donated, that he was sure; but he would never forget the agony and the love that had burned in Andrew Minyard’s eyes.  It was enough to set the world on fire. 

“I better call Katie,” he said.  “Looks like she’s getting a dog for Christmas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was Andrew who donated, of course it was Andrew. But Neil stipulated that if Katie wanted a S & R dog, she had to get one.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this! First time writing smut for this fandom ;) All kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! HMU on Tumblr, @fuzzballsheltiepants.


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